Chapter 4 Liar
Liar
Elsie rushed to Aurora, taking both of her hands, her eyes filled with tears.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said, and Aurora was struck by how fiercely she spoke the words. How firmly she believed them. Elsie was so strong, so brave, and Aurora knew she would make the same choice over and over if it meant giving her sister back her life.
Aurora closed her eyes and squeezed Elsie’s hands.
She wondered if this was an elaborate answer to her dire prayer or if she had carried magic in her veins long before visiting the grave site.
She wasn’t sure, and she doubted she would ever truly know, but never in her wildest thoughts had she considered that her plea would lead to this: marrying a man who wasn’t Farren.
It had been Aurora’s idea to marry the Starmaker, and it was only right that he compensate her family for what they stood to lose, but the reality of it was devastating, sitting heavy in her gut.
Aurora knew she could have fought for Farren, asked that he move to the castle with her, but if she was truly to be the next Starmaker, she did not wish to involve him.
She wanted Farren to have the life he had always spoken of, running Eternal Reverie and watching his sisters grow up and one day having children of his own.
Sequestering him in a castle far from his friends and his family and his business was unthinkable, and she wouldn’t hear of it.
As difficult as it was to accept, Aurora’s time with Farren had been nothing more than a shooting star in the clear black night of her life, a magical moment that had come and gone too quickly. The ache in her chest returned, and she let go of Elsie’s hand, pressing her palm to her sternum.
“I do,” Aurora said, looking at her sister.
“It is a small price to pay for your life. For our livelihood.” There were many people who married for reasons other than love, and securing a glare line to the castle seemed a very good reason indeed.
Aurora suddenly felt a deep gratitude for Farren and his safe love; she couldn’t imagine going through this if they’d had something more akin to the love between her parents.
Because the truth was that Aurora could live without Farren, but she couldn’t live without Elsie.
Aspen walked over to join them, grabbing Elsie’s hand, then Aurora’s. “You are the Starmaker Rising,” he said, disbelief lacing his tone. “You have the Sun’s favor, an honor the rest of us could never dream of.”
“An honor I do not want,” Aurora said, but even as she spoke, she held tightly to Aspen’s hand.
Mama walked over then, and Aspen and Elsie parted to let her into the circle. “You have lit up this home from the moment you entered our world. What an incredible gift to be able to illuminate all of Reverie.” She took a deep breath, and her eyes filled with tears. “Your father would be so proud.”
It wasn’t something Aurora wanted to hear, that Papa would be proud of the very thing ruining the life she had planned for herself. To her, this was a terrible, loathsome thing that had nothing to do with who she was or what her talents were. It was nothing to be proud of.
Aurora didn’t say that, though. Instead, she held on to her family because she was afraid she would break if she didn’t.
They stood together for a long time, and while she could feel that her mother meant what she had said, Aurora could also feel the sadness in the room.
The uncertainty. Her family didn’t want to let her go just as much as she didn’t want to leave, and that gave her the strength to finally step back and do what she needed to do.
“I have to see Farren,” Aurora said, moving toward the door.
“I can inform his family,” Aspen said.
“No. If I am to give up our life together to marry a stranger and try to learn a magic I’m not convinced I have, I must be the one to tell him.”
Aspen nodded. “Of course. I was only trying to help carry the load.”
“I know.” Aurora hugged her brother, then walked to the hook on the wall for her cloak before realizing she was still wearing it. She tightened it and hurried outside, letting the door slam shut behind her.
It was only then that she allowed the sob that had been building in her throat to break free, and tears ran down her cheeks and froze on her skin, tiny rivers of ice that would soon disappear, just like her life with Farren.
They had picked out a small house on the outskirts of the village, and Farren had promised that their very first piece of furniture would be a desk where Aurora could fulfill her dream of writing for Eternal Reverie.
She would tend to their home and bake her Mama’s bread, distribute the paper in the mornings and write by candlelight in the evenings.
It was more than she had ever hoped for, and it was being ripped away before she got to experience the joy of it.
The cold had never bothered Aurora, nor had the darkness—she found both to be immeasurably comforting, and there was a stillness that blanketed her home that never seemed to find those that were touched by the Sun.
She had come to think of the light as a treat, like the Sparrows’ biscuits or game for supper; she didn’t need it, but she enjoyed it when it was available.
But now, as she stepped out of the darkness and crossed into the sunlight, she paused.
She did not close her eyes and soak in the warmth, nor did she marvel in the lore of her mountain.
That day, the stories felt more like fairy tales with all of the curses and none of the happy endings.
Aurora continued on until Farren’s home came into view.
His younger sisters were in the yard playing, building an enormous snowman and yelling with glee.
She loved Farren’s sisters and would mourn their absence in her life.
She was giving up so much, all because the Starmaker had seen something shine within her.
But what if a life with him dimmed her to nothing, snuffed her out completely? What then?
She shook her head; there was nothing for it. Elsie had said she didn’t have to do it, but of course she did. Aurora loved her sister for saying it, for acting as if Aurora had a choice, but there was no choice, not when there was so much at stake.
“Aurora!” Kitty yelled when she saw her, running through the snow to greet her.
It came up to her knees and spilled into her boots, but the young girl kept running.
Aurora couldn’t help but laugh, and she hoped her smile hid her fear and her anger, her sadness and resentment.
Kitty launched herself into her arms, and Aurora caught her and swung her around.
“You’re even taller than the last time I saw you,” she said.
“Papa says it’s all the berries I’ve been sneaking,” Kitty said, laughing, still out of breath from her run.
“The whole point of sneaking is not getting caught.” Aurora gave Kitty a conspiratorial glance, and Kitty smiled broadly as if it was all part of an elaborate plan that was working perfectly. Then she took Aurora’s hand and pulled her closer to the house.
Farren’s other sister dashed into the house and loudly announced, “Aurora’s here, Aurora’s here!” before rushing back out and crashing into Aurora’s legs, hugging her tightly.
“Hello to you, too, Laurel,” Aurora said, bending down and smoothing her hair.
“Aurora?” Farren stepped out of the house, and his face broke into a smile the way it so often did when he saw her. “What are you doing here?”
“I need to talk with you,” she said, hating the way his smile faltered, hating the uncertainty in his perfect brown eyes.
She had told him once that she was his certainty—that no matter how unreliable his business or his health or his success may be, she was an immovable pillar he could count on.
She hated that the Starmaker had turned her into a liar, into someone who broke promises, and she vowed then and there that the Starmaker would know she resented him for it down to her very core.
Aurora took Farren’s hand and led him out into the fields, far enough away that his family couldn’t hear them.
“Please stop walking,” Farren said, his voice tight. “Tell me what has happened.”
With tears in her eyes, Aurora recounted the morning to him: her encounter with the Starmaker and the sunlight in her blood, the way he had gone to her family behind her back and insisted she move to the castle. The way Aurora had agreed on the condition that he save Elsie’s life.
As Aurora spoke, Farren’s eyes widened, his deep bronze skin turning red like it always did when he was upset.
He looked away from her and into the woods.
It was better that way, better that Aurora didn’t have to see the pain in his expression or the hurt she was causing.
But then she thought that made her a coward, so she reached for Farren’s face and brought his gaze back to hers.
“There is one more thing,” she said, swallowing hard. “The Starmaker and I will be married.”
For one awful moment, Farren said nothing, just stood there silently as tension pulled at his features. Then a terrible gasp caught in his throat. Aurora had never seen him cry before, and she was wholly unprepared for it.
“Why would he insist upon that?”
Aurora paused, took in a breath. “It was me,” she said, voice shaking. “I insisted that he replace the glare line I am giving up by not marrying you.”
“I could move with you,” Farren said quickly. Frantically. “We could still marry.”
“I would never do that to you. You can still have the life you’ve hoped for, and I know with absolute certainty that you will not find it in the castle, far removed from the things you love.”
“But I love you,” he said, his voice breaking.
“And I you,” Aurora said, taking his hands. “But this is something I must do on my own. I will not let you sacrifice your dreams for me; I couldn’t live with myself.”
“There must be a way out of this,” Farren said. “If we can find a cure for Elsie, then you won’t have to go to the castle, and you and I can marry. Others have survived the Frost; Elsie can, too.”
“Even if that were true, what of the rest of it? The Starmaker said I will die if I don’t use the magic he believes I possess.”
“How do you know he wasn’t saying that so you would agree? We can go somewhere, just the two of us, and find a way to save Elsie. And if your health takes a turn, we can come back and seek out the Starmaker.”
Aurora didn’t know the Starmaker, but she felt deep in her gut that he hadn’t been lying. He hadn’t seemed any happier about their arrangement than she was; perhaps it made her a fool, but she believed him.
“Farren—” Aurora began, but he cut her off.
“No,” he said. “Don’t do this. You don’t have to go to him tomorrow—you can take some time. Come away with me and truly think about what you want.”
“I don’t have to think about it,” she said, begging him to understand.
“I know what I want, and what I want is the life you and I planned. That has never been in question. But I cannot put my sister at risk, and if what the Starmaker says is true, I cannot put all of Reverie at risk, either. It is too heavy a burden to bear.”
Farren put his hands on her head and pulled her into a kiss, a passionate and urgent plea that Aurora wanted so badly to answer, but she could not.
He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.
“Come away with me, Rora,” he said again, softer now.
“Meet me at our cave tonight, once everyone else is asleep. Please.”
Her heart ached at the mention of the cave, a place Aurora had found when she was a child.
It was dark and cold and covered in ice, but the floor was blanketed in wildflowers, vibrant and healthy blooms that were a testament to the magic that lived beneath the ground.
Aurora used to go there to write, to dream up her own stories, but over time, the cave had turned from her place to theirs.
As Farren spoke, Aurora let herself imagine it, meeting in secret in the middle of the night to find a different solution with the man she loved.
Huddling in the cave and thinking up ideas that didn’t result in her moving far, far away.
But it was just a fantasy, a way to delay the inevitable.
Aurora had made a deal with the Starmaker, an agreement that would save her sister’s life and secure the livelihood of her family. She wouldn’t go back on her word.
“I’m sorry,” she said, pulling away. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t do that. I would never forgive myself if something happened to Elsie because I took too much time.”
Farren looked at her, his brow creased, his eyes red. She wanted to comfort him, but there was nothing she could say that would make any difference. He had asked her to run away with him, and she had said no.
He nodded, wiped his eyes. “That’s it, then?” he asked, his voice flat.
“It has to be. What else is there?”
For a long time, Farren said nothing, and Aurora wondered if that was how they’d leave things, a heavy silence that spoke for them both. But then he took her hand. “I’m sorry this is happening to you. It is an impossible position to be in.”
The acknowledgment soothed something inside her, and she exhaled. “I’m sorry, too.”
Aurora leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, breathing in his scent, his comfort and warmth, for the last time.
Then she began her walk home. A few stray tears ran down her cheeks, but she knew she was doing the right thing.
Walking away from Farren was hard, but walking away from the life they had planned together was worse, and she let herself feel the pain of it the entire way home.
Then she squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and pushed the pain away. Anger was a much sharper tool than sadness, and she would wield it with all her strength.